


(none of this is) in your control

by darkangel0410



Series: burn this city down (to show you the light) [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Kneeling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: “This is the first year you’ve played in the league where you got collared halfway through the season,” one of the few reporters that Brent doesn’t recognise asks, “Do you think that's the reason your play has fallen off the last month or so? Is your personal life distracting you from hockey?”Brent has to stop himself from touching the black nylon collar that’s wrapped around his neck, from clutching at it like a lifeline.





	(none of this is) in your control

**Author's Note:**

> I just need all the Sharks fic, especially Burnzie/Tomáš. Enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> _láska_ means love in Czech (at least that's what google translate told me so)

“I don’t know why we can’t win, we’re a great team. We _know_ we’re a great team,” Brent tells the reporters huddled around him; he wonders if he sounds as frustrated as he feels, if anyone can tell from the sound of his voice that he wants to scream. Brent knows he should probably be kneeling in front of Tomáš right now, let his dom shield him from the press, but he hasn’t been able to get any points in so many games, he’s playing worse than he has all year: this is the least he can do for his team. “Maybe we can hire a witch doctor or something, eh?”

 

“This is the first year you’ve played in the league where you got collared halfway through the season,” one of the few reporters that Brent doesn’t recognise asks, “Do you think that's the reason your play has fallen off the last month or so? Is your personal life distracting you from hockey?”

 

Brent has to stop himself from touching the black nylon collar that’s wrapped around his neck, from clutching at it like a lifeline. The immediate area around him seems to still; both Paulie and Cooch look like they’re barely restraining themselves from saying something to the reporters and Pavs is furious, already taking two steps away from his own scrum, like he’s going to physically intervene. 

 

“I think my personal life has nothing to do with how I play hockey,” Brent answers coolly, looking the reporter in the eyes, “and everyone goes through slumps, we’ll figure it out. And I think if I was another dom, you wouldn’t have even tried to ask me that.”

 

Brent smells Tomáš - his usual woodsy aftershave underneath sweat from the game- a second before he wraps his hand around the back of Brent’s neck and squeezes; it makes Brent relax a little, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

 

“All done?” Tomáš asks him quietly; Brent can’t see his face, but it wouldn’t surprise him if was Tomáš staring down the asshole reporter who was starting to look nervous; for someone who was usually smiling and happy, Tomáš was surprisingly intimidating when he wanted to be.

 

“Yeah, I’m done answering questions,” Brent says when one of the other reporters tries to ask him something else. Once the locker room’s clear of the media, he lets himself slump forward a little bit and buries his face in his hands; he’s not scoring, the team’s not winning and he’s afraid that it’s going to continue into the playoffs and they’re going to be on the outside looking in come June again.

 

He feels Tomáš hand in his hair, not pulling, just carding his fingers through Brent’s hair comfortingly; Brent feels like he’s trying to run while in quicksand: all his reactions are off, slower than usual. He keeps trying to move forward and nothing is happening except mistake after mistake no matter what he does.

 

Brent’s vaguely aware of everyone moving around them, finishing getting dressed and then leaving; he thinks a couple guys stop to talk to Tomáš -he can hear both Pavs and Paulie talking and he’s almost sure Cooch pats his shoulder on his way out, but it’s hard to tell because all he can focus on is how he keeps failing his team.

 

“Time to go home, I think,” Tomáš tells him a few minutes later; Brent picks his head up and looks down at himself before glancing over his shoulder at his dom. Tomáš knows what he’s trying to say because he raises an eyebrow and adds, “We can take a shower at home, is fine to wait for once.”

 

Brent shrugs and lets Tomáš urge him to his feet and puts on the worn Sharks t-shirt that Tomáš hands him over his underarmour; as soon as it’s over his head, Brent realizes it’s one of Tomáš’s own shirts. It smells like his dom and it’s a little tight across his shoulders, but it’s soft and it makes Brent feel warm and cared for.

 

The ride home is mostly a blur, Brent rests his head against the passenger side window, not really wanting to talk; he knows the team’s losing streak isn’t all on him, but it _feels_ like it is: nothing’s going right while he’s on the ice and Brent has no clue how to fix it.

 

Tomáš seems content being quiet during the drive, the radio a low buzz of sound in the background; he keeps his hand on Brent’s knee the whole time, a warm brand that Brent can feel even through the material of his underarmour.

 

They pull into the parking garage and it feels almost normal for a minute, coming home after a game together, but Brent is vividly aware of how tense he is, and he can feel the beginning of a headache brewing behind his eyes. 

 

Tomáš doesn’t say anything until they’re upstairs and then he pulls Brent in for a kiss with a hand on the back of his neck; it’s just a quick press of their lips together, but it makes Brent sigh and close his eyes. He lets himself tip forward and rest his head on Tomáš’s shoulder, draws comfort from the way Tomáš’s hand goes to his hair to start playing with it and his other hand rests on Brent’s lower back.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Tomáš says after a few minutes; his voice is soft but there’s no mistaking the steel underneath it and even as rundown as Brent feels right now, it still sends a shiver down his spine. “Whole team is falling apart and is not your job to fix it.”

 

“I should be able to do something,” Brent spits out, suddenly furious; he tries to push Tomáš away from him, but Tomáš’s hand tightens in his hair and all Brent manages is to be able to look his dom in the eye. Tomáš looks stern, no trace of his usual smile on his lips and Brent recognizes the look on his face: he’s serious and he’s going to do what he thinks Brent needs and he won’t stop for anything less than Brent’s safeword. 

 

Brent feels some of the tension leave his body, knowing that his dom was going to take care of him made him feel loved and cared for, but he knows that he needs to be better. “I’m not scoring, I can barely keep the puck out of our own end and I can’t -I’m letting everyone down, every time I mess up. I have to be better, there’s no -”

 

“Twenty-two other people on the team,” Tomáš interrupts him, his voice firm; his hand is fisted in Brent’s hair now, keeping him from looking away or even avoiding eye contact. “Including me and no one is playing well this month, we have been lazy and slow and we’re paying for it by losing. But is not your fault, you are not the only one on the team.” 

 

“But I have to prove I’m worth it!” Brent almost yells; he grabs onto Tomáš’s shirt, bunching the fabric in between fingers and he’s dimly aware of the fact that he’s pulling Tomáš forward towards him. “All the money, the contract, if I can’t put up points then I’m not worth it, any of it.”

 

“Oh, _láska_ ,” Tomáš says softly, wrapping his hand around the side of Brent’s neck and squeezing gently; it makes Brent’s breathe hitch, just a little, to have his dom’s hands on him like that, caring and careful, like Brent’s more delicate than he actually is. “How could you not be worth it? You are best in the league -even now, you have more points than any other defenseman. And you are amazing to watch, skating circles around almost everyone out there. And how good in front Jonesy you are now, you deserve everything.”

 

“I just don’t want anyone to regret giving me that contract,” Brent finally admits quietly; he lets himself relax into the grip Tomáš has on him, abruptly tired and with the headache from earlier back again, starting to pound at his temples.

 

“I think we need to talk more later,” Tomáš says, keeping his voice quiet and soft; he moves his hand so he can rub his thumb over Brent’s cheek. “Because you are worth more than just contract, but for now, I think you should come kneel and relax until feel better.”

 

Brent takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before he nods and lets Tomáš lead him over to the couch, where there’s a pile of kneeling pillows close by; Tomáš picks one of the smaller ones and arranges the both of them so Brent’s on his knees in between Tomáš’s legs. Brent leans forward and rests his head against his dom’s thighs; he can feel Tomáš’s knees and legs pressed in close against his body and it makes him feel surrounded and protected, like Tomáš won’t let anything near him until he’s ready to deal with it.

 

It’s easy to close his eyes and let himself sink down until everything’s hazy and indistinct, until the only important thing is his dom’s hand in his hair and the feeling of being safe and taken cared of.

 

Everything else can wait.


End file.
